victim number X
by cedricsowner
Summary: How did the friendship between Junior and Guerrero begin? Warning: Since this is set in the time when they were both assassins, they are not shown in a terribly favorable light here. T-rated for language and violence. Final chapter up!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

She was sitting at her desk, pouring over some documents, case files maybe. To Junior's surprise the lock to her apartment hadn't represented much of an obstacle. One should think someone with as many enemies as she had would take more precautions.

Conveniently, the whole place was bathed in dark shadows from the rapidly approaching sunset outside. The only source of light was coming from the library lamp on her desk, making her a sitting duck.

Junior cocked his gun and aimed. The silencer was already screwed on.

"I know you're here", she said.

Junior hesitated. Nothing in her posture indicated the usual fear or panic. She was enormously calm.

"Listen to me for a sec, will you?"

The Old Man had told him time and time again not to talk to the targets. It made things unnecessarily complicated. On the other hand, there was absolutely no way she could evade her fate. These were her last moments on earth. If she had something to say, who was he to deny it to her? He just hoped she wouldn't break into a full-fledged plea for her life. Joubert was going to take him on a hunting trip tomorrow, he didn't want his weekend to be ruined by those stupid ruminations that sometimes took hold of him.

She read his silence as consent. "Don't worry, I won't ask you to spare me." She still sat like he had found her, with his back to him, looking at the stuff on her desk. Junior didn't move. Soon to be dead or not, he didn't want her to see his face. But he listened.

"I know full well, if you don't do it, someone else will. It has always been perfectly clear to me that once Dimaso dies, his murderers will get rid of me next. I've helped him on too many occasions to be allowed to live. Occupational hazard when you're a corrupt cop – can't turn anywhere for help. So, no use in running away." She inhaled sharply, the first indicator that she was not as calm and composed as she seemed to be.

"But before we get done with it, there's something I'd like to ask you…"

… … …

"Internal affairs was doing overtime, looking into her dealings with Dimaso. She would have gone to jail for decades, and you know what happens to cops there… Maybe it's better this way." The detective wasn't particularly cold-hearted. In fact he only voiced, in a very watered down version, what pretty much everyone present at the crime scene thought: She wasn't much of a loss. Corrupt to the core she had blown a still unascertained number of cases and at least on one occasion indirectly caused the death of a crown witness.

"A bullet straight to the temple was way too good for that bitch", one of the officers grumbled. Several of his colleagues murmured in agreement. Nobody tried very hard to investigate the murder scene thoroughly. If anyone didn't deserve justice, it was her.

The detective in charge noticed that the desk she was found sitting at was completely clear, as if someone had removed whatever she had been looking at. (And she had been looking at something, her reading glasses were sitting next to the library lamp which was still switched on.) He decided not to bother. The chief had made it very clear that the police department would not waste any more time and energy on her death than was absolutely necessary and he was completely at peace with this point of view.

_**A/N: Thank you, ladybug, veniceit and jackattack, for leaving comments on my latest fics, that was really kind of you!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

Joubert had sent word to Guerrero. He wanted to talk to him; no mentioning about what. Guerrero put on the belt with the hidden blades he had recently – erm – _acquired_. As far as he knew he hadn't done anything that deserved Joubert's wrath, but in this business you never knew. Guerrero had decided a long time ago not to trust anyone.

"Has Junior seemed a bit weird to you lately?", Joubert asked.

Guerrero stifled an exasperated groan. _Oh no, this was about the stray._

"That a gotcha question?"

"I'm not talking about his usual crazy antics." Joubert poured himself a drink and offered Guerrero a glass, too. "Last weekend I wanted to take him on a hunting trip, but he backed out of it at the last minute and has been kind of withdrawn ever since."

Guerrero had to fight not to roll his eyes. Joubert was experiencing father-son issues. He had seen it coming the moment his boss started calling the stray "Junior". What had he been thinking? The whole idea was ridiculous. Granted, the boy was quite talented, but establishing a bond of that quality with him?

Maybe it was a midlife-crisis thing.

From Guerrero's point of view, Joubert had fallen to a fancy illusion. Given the right price the stray would betray him just like everyone else.

Like Guerrero would.

It was simply a question of the right amount of money in combination with thorough protection from retaliation. Especially the latter had kept him from striking a deal with one of Joubert's enemies yet. Rule number one in this line of work: Safety issues ALWAYS outweigh monetary gain.

"A chick maybe?", Guerrero volunteered.

His boss shrugged his shoulders. "Could be. I want you to find out." He sipped at his Whiskey rather darkly.

"What if it isn't a chick?"

"I'll deal with it." Joubert pretended to be unfazed by the thought, but Guerrero had seen the pained flicker in his eyes. He feared the outcome of Guerrero's investigation.

_Dude, you got attached. Not cool. _

It was unbelievable, Joubert, best in the business, cold-blooded bastard and all, had fallen for that stray. What was it about that kid? Jeez, even hookers were all over him. Couldn't be his looks alone, could it?

Yes and no. The blue eyes and the muscular body surely helped, but it was his seeming innocence that fooled them all. This fucking smile, mischievously confident but hinting at an insecurity Guerrero seriously doubted was really there. Nature had been generous to the boy, providing him with such a perfect disguise.

He had seen _targets _smiling at him before he took them out, for heaven's sake!

_Nice trick, dude. Won't work on me. _

Should the stray really be up to something, he'd discover it. And maybe that would set Joubert's head straight again and they could all just do their jobs again, without having to endure the boss indulging in paternal feelings. The whole idea that he could form anything but a business relationship with one of his employees was ludicrous, dangerous and bound to end in disaster.

As he walked out of Joubert's office, Guerrero realized he was actually looking forward to taking on the job.

_Let's see who you really are, dude. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

This wasn't about a chick, that much was sure.

Unless the stray had started dating a physics professor.

In their line of work, chicks were always a problematic issue. On the one hand a necessity for certain forms of stress relief. On the other hand a nuisance when they went all Mother Theresa and tried to change your ways, a hassle when they clung, a major security flaw when they got pregnant.

Kids.

So easy to use as a pressure point.

He would never have a child. Never.

Guerrero read Junior's credit card transcript of the past week again. His only purchases out of the ordinary were books.

_Engineering Fundamentals: An Introduction _

_Basic Physics: A Guide_

_Principles of Mechanical Engineering _

_Essentials of Physics _

_Introduction To Basic Machines and How They Work_

_Physics Fundamentals For Dummies _

_The Cartoon Book of Physics_

_Engineering with Toby and Tabby: How Engineers Shape The World_

The order of the purchases was very telling. On the first day, the stray had bought college level books. On the second he had changed to editions aimed at adults who wanted to brush up what they had learned in High School. On the third day, well… The cover of the last book was very colorful and it contained a lot of pictures…

_Now I'm intrigued, dude…_

Guerrero had installed several tiny cameras in Junior's apartment and was now watching the feed from his car parked behind the building where Junior lived. Setting so many of them up had been a bitch, but it had been worth it: The boy was working on something in the kitchen, what if Guerrero had only put one up in the living-room?

However, since Junior was in the field, Guerrero had needed to be extra careful and creative when hiding the cameras. That resulted in some very odd and dissatisfying angles. He could see the boy pacing the kitchen, he could see him sitting down at the kitchen table, skipping through a book and then getting up again, obviously frustrated, but he couldn't see the surface of the table.

What the hell was he doing?

He was apparently pouring over something scattered on the table, something so small, he had to use a magnifying glass to see it properly. Loose papers were strewn all over the floor.

Guerrero's car phone rang. He didn't need to pick it up, he knew who was calling. Joubert wanted a progress report. He demanded one about thrice a day. The ensuing conversation was usually kind of repetitive…

_"I'm not sure what he's up to, but doesn't seem like he's setting up a competing business or chatting with the FBI." - "_Not sure?_ That what I pay you for? Do your job and FIND IT OUT! NOW!"_

…so Guerrero decided to ignore the ringing and focused his attention on the camera feed instead.

The stray seemed to be losing his patience rapidly. He had just taken one of the books and thrown it against the wall. What was he working on? No matter how much Guerrero squinted and adjusted the signal, he couldn't get a clear image of the table. The feed was too grainy to make out anything except a couple of papers and the magnifying glass.

The phone kept ringing.

Now it was Guerrero who was losing his patience.

He switched off the phone, got out of the car, let himself into the apartment building and rang the stray's doorbell.

"What in the world are you doing here?" There was Junior, thinking he'd done a good job of keeping his address secret.

"Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers", Guerrero quoted. "You shouldn't throw them around, dude."

Without waiting for any kind of invitation, he stepped over the apartment's threshold, walked past Junior and headed for the kitchen.

Junior was way too baffled to object. "Damn books", he replied, following Guerrero into the kitchen. "Don't understand any of the shit."

Sure he didn't. Guerrero had dug around in the stray's past. There were still some gaps to fill, but it was safe to say he hadn't spent much time in school.

With Junior in close pursuit, he entered the room he'd been watching for so many hours.

"Dude…" Finally seeing properly what was lying on the table, Guerrero was surprised, and not in a pleasant way.

_**A/N: The quote is from Charles W. Eliot. Rainefan rightfully pointed out that cell phones didn't exist at the time the story is taking place. Thank you so much for telling me, it totally escaped my notice! **_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

"These", Guerrero slowly said, "are case files from the cop you killed." He turned and rested his eyes on the boy.

"What is this about?"

Junior could see that underneath the seemingly calm surface, Guerrero was angry. Why? What he did in his free time was his personal business, wasn't it?

"She was working on a strange case when I came to her. See these tiny metal pieces?"

He pointed at some silvery, vaguely mechanical looking things next to the magnifying glass.

"These were found in the bodies of five different murder victims, three shot to death, one put through a wood chipper, one sunk in a lake with concrete shoes. Nobody knew what they were, but since all victims were criminals, nobody cared too much either. Except her."

"And now you." Guerrero still looked still very disapproving. Most people wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between Guerrero looking his normal focused, vaguely fear-inducing, not giving anything away self and his angry self, but Junior had studied him quite intensely. Junior had never seen anyone behaving less ass-kissing towards Joubert and still he held Guerrero in highest esteem, a fact that had intrigued him from day one.

"You think you can make up for killing her by solving her last case", Guerrero stated evenly. "Dude, seriously, not cool. Redemption is for sappy novels. In real life it's bullshit that clouds your thinking and puts others at risk. The moment you start looking for redemption is the moment you start questioning what you do and that, dude, is not healthy."

"Are you done? This is not about _redemption_." Junior put stress on the word, let it linger on his tongue for a moment. _Redemption. _The thought had never crossed his mind before. What should he seek redemption for? It was a dog eat dog world out there. He wasn't doing anything to others that others wouldn't do to him. That cop had brought her fate upon herself. It wasn't his fault she had mingled with the wrong kind of people. He had only carried out orders.

"This is about loose ends", Junior explained to Guerrero. "I don't like loose ends. Loose ends can be dangerous."

Oh. Now that was at least something less frequently heard.

Guerrero didn't quite see why that cop's unsolved case should present a potentially dangerous loose end, but well, if the stray was convinced of that… he didn't agree with it, but it was an acceptable explanation.

So, should he help him solve the riddle or not?

Guerrero could quite vividly imagine Joubert's opinion on that and decided to save himself some time.

"Let's see what you've got there." Guerrero sat down and inspected the metal things with the magnifying glass.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

Carefully Guerrero lifted _Principles of Mechanical Engineering _from the floor and put it on the table. "I was serious about not throwing books around", he told Junior.

"Damn books are written so that nobody understands anything", the boy scowled.

"You skipped a couple of classes too many, dude." Guerrero squinted his eyes. Some of the metal pieces looked pretty damaged. No surprise if you put the body they were carried in through a wood chipper. "Work on the basics, then the books will make sense to you."

Of course the stray laughed out loud at the idea of catching up on his schooling.

"School is over for me. Need no stupid books."

Guerrero hadn't expected anything else. People with good looks often disregarded the value of solid education, thinking they could charm their way through life. "Dude, you know how to build a bomb because we told you what parts to use. Do you know why they, once put together, explode? Could you build one from other parts we didn't tell you about?"

He turned his attention to a tiny rectangular shaped piece of metal. "You know how to fire and clean a gun because we showed you how. But do you actually know how guns work? Could you repair one? Could you manipulate one?"

He stared at the piece for a long time, then made a suggestion that surprised Junior before returning to the prior topic of conversation: "Or use it for something else except killing somebody? Build a bomb from it, for example?"

Junior wasn't sure what to reply and tried one of his lopsided smiles. He didn't like being lectured, but on the other hand hearing Guerrero's opinion was something special. He usually kept it to himself, as if the people around him weren't worthy to waste his breath on.

Guerrero wasn't surprised to see the stray try his patented chick smile on him.

_Attempting to charm your way through life again?_

_No go here, dude._

Junior felt frustration rise as his best weapon seemed to have no influence at all on the older man. Like the stupid books, Guerrero was such a damn riddle! Why couldn't he be a little more open? The Old Man spoke with deep respect of him. He had the kind of reputation Junior wanted to gain for himself one day.

Badly.

But this bastard wasn't willing to share anything! Except now a stupid afterschool special sermon about the value of education that didn't help him at all.

Now, Junior knew, getting on the wrong side of Guerrero could result in hazardous consequences. On the other hand he wasn't willing to let anyone treat him like a school boy.

"If education and knowledge are so important to you, how come you suggested we see a guy to tell us what the mechanical parts are?"

Guerrero raised an eyebrow. The stray was actually challenging him.

Ballsy. Stupid and impertinent, but ballsy.

"Knowing when and where to ask for help is part of being knowledgeable, dude."

_**A/N: Thank you, jackattack, for leaving a comment on "welcome, Mrs. Pucci" – as always, it means a lot to me!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

"So, what are we going to do?", Junior asked as they slowly ascended the staircase of a rundown apartment house. "Electric shocks, kneecaps, the thing with the finger nails?"

Guerrero chuckled. "Easy, dude. We ask him nicely and we pay him." He stopped and indicated with a nod that they had reached their destination.

"Then why did you bring your tackle box?"

"Perception creates reality." Guerrero paused to ring the doorbell. "Making a certain impression is far more important than actually performing every time. One well-executed example that gets talked about can carry you a long way and save you a ton of time and energy. Economic thinking, dude."

They heard someone inside the apartment shuffling towards the door, then stopping to look through the spy hole. A split second later an audible gasp followed.

"Open the door, dude", Guerrero said with a rather bored expression.

Reluctantly, his order was carried out and they got sight of a pale, visibly shaking man – the engineer guy Guerrero knew. His eyes immediately fixed on the tackle box.

"Whatever it is, no problem, just tell me what you want!"

… … …

The engineer took his time to examine the metal pieces.

"Shouldn't we speed things up a little?", Junior asked after watching him inspecting the pieces for about an hour. The mole-like little man was driving him crazy. He was moving at snail's pace, lifted one item, grunted at it, weighed his head, pursed his lips, put it down and then did it all over again with the next one.

Guerrero rolled his eyes heavenward. The stray was driving him crazy. He couldn't sit still for a minute, kept shifting his weight and all in all was way too fidgety. No surprise his jobs always tended to end in a grand explosion, a huge splash of water or an insane parachute jump from a crashing airplane.

"Hiring an expert only makes sense if you let him do his job, dude." He sipped at the tea he had made in the engineer's kitchen.

Suddenly their expert's face lit up, his fear of Guerrero momentarily wiped away by simple fascination. "This is ingenious!"

… … …

Junior tried to hide it, but he had trouble following the engineer's explanation. The pieces of metal were actually pieces of tiny, for lack of a better word, _machines_, that solely worked on a non battery-powered mechanism. If Junior had understood correctly, the machines originally looked like very small eggs. Once implanted into the body the insetting erosion slowly opened the "egg" and revealed a sharp cogwheel, obviously meant to cause internal bleeding.

"How long does this erosion process take?", Guerrero asked, studying the metal pieces with newly found interest.

The engineer shrugged. "Erosion is a complicated process, depending on various factors. But a couple of months definitely."

"The victims from the corrupt cop's case were all killed before the erosion process was completed", Junior concluded.

While Guerrero was wondering if he should instruct the engineer to build him one or two exemplars (you never know when something unobtrusive and effective like that comes in handy), Junior wondered how many people had died of internal bleeding without anyone asking questions about it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

Another conversation with Joubert. Another order to find out what the stray was up to.

This was getting old. Fast.

Guerrero decided to take the direct approach this time and simply ask him instead of engaging in a full blown surveillance campaign again.

"Joubert hands you a piece-of-cake job on a silver platter and you claim to be _busy_?"

The stray shrugged his shoulders. At least he had stopped trying to smile his way out in his presence.

"This isn't still about that corrupt cop's case, is it?"

Of course it was. He didn't even want to meet his eyes. "It's still a loose end. I now know what the metal things are, but who plants them? And why? Call it a gut feeling, but this seems important to me."

"Dude, I've seen you jump out of airplanes on a _gut feeling_."

The boy was still staring at the ground, but the way he squared his shoulders indicated that he was not going to back down. "You take the job and let me mind my own business", he mumbled.

Wow, that was a lot more antagonistic than most people dared to be with Guerrero.

He decided to let it slide. A lucrative, fuss-free job was waiting and if the stray didn't want it, he would be the next in the food chain to get it, so who was he to complain? Of course it was an interesting question who planted the devices, but it was definitely not time-sensitive. The boy needed to set his priorities straight. Economic thinking - it wasn't that difficult.

… … …

The house had zero security measures. Getting in was ridiculously easy. Silent as a mouse Guerrero sneaked along the corridor that led to the master bedroom, gun at the ready, silencer screwed on.

He managed to make it disappear right in time to prevent the target's little daughter from seeing it.

Kids. Why did they always have to wander around at night?

"Who are you?", she demanded to know, clutching her teddy bear.

"The watchman", Guerrero replied, making sure his face remained hidden in the dark. "Speak quietly or you'll wake up your parents."

"We don't have a watchman", the girl said.

"Your daddy hired me to keep you safe. He didn't want to worry you, so he didn't tell you."

She looked unconvinced.

"Now go back to bed and I won't tell on you."

"Tell on me?" Now she looked uneasy.

"You're not supposed to be wandering around the house at night, are you? Your dad will be angry if he finds out. But if you hurry back to bed right now I'll do you a favor and keep it a secret from him, okay?"

The girl slowly nodded. Her daddy could get very angry indeed. A couple of weeks ago he had locked away Mr. Gruffypaw for a whole night. That had been so unfair! How had she been supposed to know that goldfish don't like jello? Holding the teddy bear pressed tight to her chest, she padded back to bed.

Determined not to waste any more time, Guerrero proceeded to the master bedroom. The target and his wife were both sound asleep. He took him out with a single shot so silent, his wife kept on snoring, totally unaware that she had just become a single parent and widow.

… … …

When Guerrero came home, he found about a dozen messages from Joubert on his answering machine.

Guess-who hadn't shown up for a scheduled meeting and wasn't returning his calls.

Jeez, was the stray getting on his nerves_. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

From the looks of his apartment, the stray had left voluntarily, no signs of a fight or forced entry were detectable.

Guerrero dipped his index finger into the coffee on the kitchen table. It was barely perceptible, but the fluid was still slightly warm – he couldn't have left more than two hours ago.

Hm, let's do some math…

The meeting with Joubert had been set to start an hour ago and the stray hadn't called to cancel. He knew better than to stand up Joubert, so he must have figured that whatever he was planning to do prior to the meeting wouldn't take long and he would make it in time.

Apparently he had miscalculated that part.

Guerrero retrieved a dog-eared street map and a pair of dividers from the inside pocket of his jacket. Dividers made great weapons because of their unobtrusiveness. Besides that they were useful in torture, too. The sharp steel point of a pair of dividers in close range of the human eye could work miracles when it came to revealing secrets.

Today, however, Guerrero used it for its original purpose and drew a circle around Junior's apartment, trying to roughly estimate in what area he had gone missing based on the time frame established by the coffee temperature and the meeting with Joubert. Then he studied the papers on the table.

Unsurprisingly, the stray had worked on the dead cop's case files again, but this time from a different angle - new books were piled up left and right: _Grey's anatomy_, _An Introduction into Medical Physiology_, _Principles of Anatomy and Physiology_, _the Coloring Book of Human Anatomy_…

It looked like the stray had tried to understand the workings of the machines in connection with the body better. Okay, but where had he gone? A curious imprint on a piece of paper next to one of the books caught Guerrero's intention. The stray must have scribbled something on the sheet above and unintentionally left marks on the piece of paper underneath. Guerrero ground a pencil point and blew the powder over the marks. It revealed a telephone number.

A telephone number Guerrero knew.

_Knowing when and where to ask for help is part of being knowledgeable, dude._

Suddenly very fast, Guerrero skipped through the cop's case files and took, for the first time, a look at the names of the victims.

He knew three of these people.

All of them had…

All at the same…

The stray couldn't know that…

Oh no. Not cool at all.

… … …

The idea had been very simple: Since he didn't understand the damn books, Junior had decided to follow Guerrero's advice and seek outside help from an expert. Officially Dr. Aspen owned a veterinary practice, but suspiciously few of his visitors actually had an animal with them when they showed up – it was nothing but a façade for his real business, and that was treating people who couldn't go to hospitals etc. for various reasons. Junior had figured he could tell him how skillful one had to be to implant the small machines into human bodies. He had even brought cash to pay him for his time, this early in the morning.

Now, even though he had come to the practice looking for advice and not expecting any kind of threat, Junior was always alert enough to perceive when things were a little off, so he managed to ward off the doctor's attack with a scalpel quite easily. What he hadn't taken into account, however, was the presence of the doc's daughter who stuck him with a needle. Whatever it was that the syringe contained, it hit him hard, blew him off his feet, rendered him pretty much immobile but didn't put him completely to sleep.

Weaving in and out of consciousness, he heard the two of them discuss:

"He's one of Joubert's men, we can't simply kill him!"

"We can't let him live either, not after the attack. Damn, Dad, he knew nothing, you should have just kept cool…"

"We could OD him, then shoot him and tell Joubert he arrived here with gunshot wounds and we couldn't rescue him…"

"That might work…"

"No, dude, it won't."

Guerrero. The two had been too busy discussing Junior's fate to notice him slipping in through the back door, gun at the ready, silencer screwed on.

Drawing on his last piece of strength, Junior rolled around, forced his eyes open, looked at Guerrero and whispered: "Ask them!"

Guerrero rolled his eyes heavenward in an exasperated gesture, but then nodded in agreement.

"Why?", he asked the young woman and her father, with a rather bored tone.

"Criminals killed my wife", Aspen replied. "A mugging gone wrong, years ago. We wanted to take revenge and planted our little friends into as many scumbags as possible."

"That enough of an explanation?", Guerrero asked Junior. "We're wasting time here, dude."

"Who else?", Junior panted.

Guerrero pointed the gun at the daughter.

"Every name in our files that's marked with a red cross", she said. Had she known that these were going to be her last words on earth, she would have probably expanded on this information a bit.

Two muffled gunshots put an end to the lives of two serial killers no one would ever hear about.

Junior tumbled into the dark deep abyss of drug-induced slumber.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

He didn't sleep long, however. A violent shake of his shoulder and a prick on his arm forced him back into semi-consciousness. "This should get you back on your feet again", Guerrero said, indicating the syringe in his hand. "You'll feel a bit wobbly, but it'll get better the more your circulatory system starts rolling again."

Guerrero pulled Junior into an upright sitting position. "Come on, get up. You don't have much time to linger. These bodies need to be removed before the first clients show up. Although, quite frankly, if I were you I'd set the whole hellhole on fire."

"Where are you going?", Junior muttered, still trying to clear his head.

"Since you were so interested in the "who else" part of the story, I guess you'll want to take a look at the files to warn those who are marked with a cross. Well, do as you please, but I've got no time for that, I've got other appointments to keep."

From his position on the floor Junior couldn't see that Guerrero was taking one file (the one that he had retrieved from the doctor's cabinet while Junior was out cold) with him as he left.

About an hour later he was sitting on a gurney while the back alley quack he had sought out was examining the x-ray image they'd just made. "Someone implanted _that_ in you while treating you for a gunshot wound?", the doctor asked incredulously. "And you didn't notice?"

"Just get it out. Fast", Guerrero hissed.

… … …

The professor was anxious. Ever since the envelope with the photos had arrived in his mail he hadn't been able to sleep properly. Numerous times he had contemplated going to the police. But that would inevitably mean his wife would find out. And his children! His reputation in the scientific community would be ruined, everything he had worked for in decades would be lost… He was an eminent authority in Greek philosophy and physics, people looked up to him for developing theories that incorporated both fields... If the photos came to light, his whole approach would be compromised.

The only alternative was to cave in to the blackmailer's demands. So far he hadn't named a sum. He had only said he wanted to visit him in his office. The professor's mind was going into overdrive, imagining what amount that man could ask for. He'd probably have to sell the house….

To his great surprise, the blackmailer turned out to be a fairly young person. "What do you want?", he blurted out, the second he crossed his office's threshold.

"Education", the young man said. "You make sure I understand and I make sure those photos remain hidden." He shot him a smile that, the professor hated to admit it, was very winning. "Now, let's start at the beginning. Who was this Newton guy and what is this business with the apple all about?"

… … …

"_You_ want to accompany Junior on that job? Instead of Shultz?" Joubert studied Guerrero carefully. Of course his face, the usual unreadable mask of stone, gave nothing away, especially not that he thought Junior could do with someone more capable than Shultz to watch his back during this risky mission. "Last time I wanted you to go on a mission with Junior I practically had to beat you over the head with a shovel to get you to agree and after the airplane thing you flat out told me you'd rather be tortured by someone like you than ever going on a job with him again."

"I like South America", he replied and Joubert knew Guerrero well enough to understand he would not expand on that matter.

Junior didn't ask why Guerrero instead of Shultz accompanied him to Ecuador and Guerrero didn't explain. But during the job Guerrero needed to leave a secret message for Junior, needed to let him know he had been to that place and it meant danger. He didn't have much time and it had to be unobtrusive.

To Junior the tiny red cross on the painting in their contact's office, hardly visible, stood out immediately. Ten minutes later their contact - the traitor - was dead and Guerrero free again.

Did Junior understand the full implications of the cross? Did he understand that it wasn't just a reminder of danger but also related to Guerrero in a much more direct way?

You bet it did. The doctor and his daughter had made copies of all of their files and they carried the red marks, too. Junior had taken a good look at them before he set the whole place on fire.

Guerrero got wind of the copies a couple of weeks after the ordeal, too. He was watchful, waited for Junior to use this to his advantage.

But even in much later years Junior never lost a word over what the cross meant, never used it to influence Guerrero in any way shape or form, not even when they were fighting in the cabin.

In Guerrero's book that probably meant even more than the implication of the cross itself.

- the end -


End file.
